Page 23 of Fast Kill

Without thinking she raced over and grabbed the doorknob, intending to rip the door open and go after him. At the last second, she stopped and took a steadying breath.

No. Chasing after him and demanding answers would get her nowhere. Even at the closest stage of their relationship she had never been able to pry something out of Dillon if he didn’t want to disclose it.

At that moment, she’d never felt more alone. She thought of Logan, and the ache inside her intensified. The urge to call him right now was so strong it was a live thing inside her. He would keep her safe. But it wasn’t fair to ask that of him, or to drag him into this nightmare of a drama. So as usual, she was on her own once again.

Numb inside and out, heart thudding against her ribs, she turned the deadbolt and stood there for a long moment, considering her options. She only had two, and no matter which one she chose, each would eat at her insides like acid.

Either she betrayed the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother, or she jeopardized everything she’d worked for to help protect him.

Chapter Seven

Taylor leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her tired eyes as she waited in her boss’s office. She’d barely slept last night, her mind spinning out of control and her conscience twisting her into knots.

All night long she’d wrestled with her dilemma, trying to decide what to do about Dillon, and thinking of Logan. She’d been so cold to him last night, though not by choice. Did he think she was a bitch now? Had she ruined any chance of something happening between them?

By morning the cold, hard truth had settled heavy in her chest. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing, or hide her association with Dillon any longer. He may have been the most important person in her life at one point, but not anymore. He’d made so many bad choices. She couldn’t help him now, and shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences for his poor life decisions.

And Logan… She’d think about him once this meeting was over. How long was her boss going to be? She was on pins and needles waiting for him.

Pushing out a deep breath, she shifted in the chair and closed her eyes, letting herself go back in time. In an instant, she was twelve years old all over again, back in that stark, brick bungalow that had been more of a prison than a home, and yet ten times better than the home she’d been taken from.

She was in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. She and Dillon had routinely done without lunch at school, eating whatever the school offered in its breakfast program. The weekends were harder, because it often meant they went without even that. The only ingredients to be found in the fridge were a slice of bologna and stale white bread, along with some mayonnaise and mustard—and the pizza box.

The pizza was off limits for her and Dillon. They both knew it, just as they knew what the consequences would be if they dared touch it. That day, however, she was too hungry to care.

Her heart beat faster as she reached in and opened the lid of the box. Four pieces of deluxe pizza lay there, tempting her beyond bearing, making her mouth water.

Just one little piece.

Since it was Friday and their foster dad usually stopped by the bar on the way home, he’d likely be too drunk to notice if she took the smallest one. It wasn’t much, but enough to stop the awful grinding in her stomach.

Hunger got the better of her. Before she’d thought it through she was already shoving the pizza into her mouth. She barely tasted it as she devoured the first half of it in two bites, focused on eating it as fast as she could.

Footsteps behind her made her whip around. Dillon stood there in the kitchen doorway, his rangy frame filling the jambs even at fifteen. His hair was matted to his head, his T-shirt damp with sweat. Oh God, she’d missed his football game.

Those brown eyes seemed to pin her in place for a moment while she stood frozen with a mouthful of pizza she could no longer chew. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she waited for him to give her hell.

Instead, he sighed, his eyes full of an unbearable sadness. “Don’t do that again. I’ll get you pizza if you want some that bad.”

Somehow she forced the cold mouthful of cheese and dough down her tight throat. “Sorry I missed your game.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He walked past her to the sink and filled a glass with water. As he did, headlights cut across the window above the sink and the sound of a familiar engine reached them.

Dillon set his glass down, his entire back going rigid as he turned away from her. “Get to your room and stay there.”

A wave of gut-churning fear rolled over her. “No, I—”

“Go, Taylor,” he snapped.

She turned and ran for her bedroom with the pizza still in hand, shut the door and jammed her desk chair beneath the knob to help barricade it. In the dark, she whipped the covers on her bed back and climbed in, pulling them over her head.

And there in the dark silence, she wolfed down what was left of the pizza. It seemed to churn in her stomach, the rising dread threatening to make it come right back up again.

The front door to the house opened. Her foster father’s footsteps echoed along the hallway. His rough, deep voice growled something, and Dillon answered quietly. Too low for her to hear the words.

Beneath the covers, she shut her eyes tightly and held her breath, waiting. Hoping the storm would pass.

It was not to be.

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